When the Smoke Clears

Chapter 15

While police and first responders rushed to the scene, Frank and Karen made their retreat from the Levesque. They limped their way to where Frank had stashed his pickup at a parking garage a few blocks away. He ushered her carefully inside the vehicle before climbing into the driver's seat and peeling out of the lot.

Outside, snow was falling in heavy flakes, blanketing the streets in white. With the scene behind them, Frank took the drive a little slower, wary of the weather and attracting unwanted attention. He took one hand off the wheel and slid it across the seat toward Karen. His fingers captured hers, pulling her attention to him.

"You did good back there." He told her.

Karen's lips were pressed in a thin line, her face a blank slate. It was hard to tell what she was feeling. She wasn't sure she knew, herself. She certainly didn't feel good.

"What happened?" Frank asked. "How'd you find me?"

She thought for a moment, grateful for something to distract her from the pain in her ankle and the worry in her heart. Everything happened so fast, she barely had time to process it until now. "I was with Eleanor when the first blast happened," she said. "Her security team whisked her off to safety and left me to fend for myself."

She felt Frank's grip tighten around her hand. She placed her other hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I figured you weren't far from the service elevators, so I started making my way over. When I heard Poindexter, I assumed you were close."

"Where'd you get the gun?" Security had metal detectors at the doors. She hadn't been packing when she walked into the event.

"One of Bishop's security team," she said. "He was, uh..." She remembered almost tripping over the guy's body. He'd been caught in the blast. Karen swallowed the lump in her throat. "He didn't need it anymore."

Frank had a pretty good idea what that meant. Frowning, he released a heavy sigh. "Shit, Karen. I'm-"

"Stop apologizing, Frank." She said, sharper than she intended.

He held her gaze long enough to know he should keep his damn mouth shut. Then, he nodded and returned his eyes to the road.

Karen sighed, already feeling guilty for snapping. "It just... feels like all everyone ever tells me anymore is how sorry they are. But it's not your fault." Her eyes drifted to the window, watching the snow-capped city roll by. "Even if it was, sorry doesn't change anything."

It was a silent ride the rest of the way to Matt's apartment. Frank parked as close as he could before getting out to help Karen. The pain and stiffness had worsened in her ankle, making her move slower than she did on the way to the truck. She didn't make a peep, but the pain was written all over her face. Frank was reminded just how goddamn tough she was. Still, he kept an arm around her waist and helped her in.

The apartment was blissfully quiet. It swallowed them whole as they all but collapsed inside. Karen gingerly slid out of her heels while Frank abandoned his bloody suit jacket by the door. He took a moment to ensure the place was empty before making his way back to her. He looped her arm over his shoulders again and helped her into the living room.

"There's a first aid kit in the bathroom," she said from the couch.

Frank wasted no time in fetching it. He returned to Karen a few moments later and set the kit on the coffee table before taking a seat beside her. His first manner of business was getting her arm cleaned and bandaged. Karen sat in silence while he worked, lost in thought. Frank focused on the task at hand, though the wrinkle in his brow said he was wrestling with some thoughts of his own. It wasn't until he'd moved to look at her ankle that he finally spoke up.